


Conflict of Interest

by purajobot935



Series: Trust Issues [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bumblebee tries to kick aft, Disobeying Orders, Gen, It's Hard and Nobody Understands, Jazz kicks aft, Minor Injuries, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Violence, Near Death Experiences, Special Ops, Spies & Secret Agents, Threesome - M/M/M, dangerous missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purajobot935/pseuds/purajobot935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jazz is pulled off a mission that's rather personal to him, Bumblebee decides to take matters into his own hands, rookie though he may be. Now it's up to Jazz to see if he can reach him in time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conflict of Interest

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published: March 2008

Mirage fought his way out of Ratchet’s grasp and tried to make it to the door of the medbay, clutching a damaged and bleeding arm and ignoring the Chief Medic’s tirade. There were things Jazz had to know that couldn’t wait. Unfortunately, he hadn’t reckoned with Ratchet being a lot bigger and stronger than him.

“Let go of me, Ratchet. This is important, and I have to tell Jazz,” he argued.

“You’re leaking fluid all over the place from that arm,” Ratchet replied. “So you will get the slag up on that table before I knock you out and put your aft up there myself.”

“But Jazz needs this information!”

“I’ve already asked Jazz and Prime to come down here, so you can wait till they arrive, but if I knock you out you’re gonna have to wait longer to deliver your message.”

Mirage knew when he was defeated. “I could just cloak and walk out of here y’know.”

“And leave a nice energon trail for me to follow.” Ratchet jerked to the table with a thumb. “Now get!”

The spy complied with a sigh, and removed a fluid-stained hand to reveal the damage on his arm. Part of his elbow was now just a gaping hole of burnt plating and circuitry covered in fluid from broken fuel lines. A closer look also revealed exposure of the base wiring.

“You’re fragging lucky the round wasn’t more powerful than it was, or you would have lost your forearm completely,” Ratchet said. “As it is, you’re not going to be able to use it for a few orns.”

“What?! But I need to get back out there!”

“You’re not going anywhere till I give you the go-ahead.”

“Eh, I’d listen t’ol’ Ratch if I were you,” Jazz said, coming into the medbay with Optimus Prime close behind.

“Ratchet said you had information you needed to share urgently,” Prime added. “Are you up to it now, or should we come back later?”

Mirage looked at Jazz. “I found The Circle.”

Jazz visibly started, and the glow of his optics behind his visor darkened. “Where?” he almost growled.

Ratchet ticked a glance over at him on hearing his tone.

“Iacon border. They’ve taken over a building, probably killed the original tenants.” Mirage looked at Prime. “They’re planning to attack the Decagon.”

Jazz’s visor darkened to a cobalt blue and did not go unnoticed by Ratchet, even as he worked to fix the spy’s arm.

“I don’t think storming the building’s going to work,” Mirage continued. “They have enough firepower to level half the district and we’d have needless collateral damage.” He looked at Ratchet. “The only reason I’m here right now is because I surprised them. Otherwise, that shot would have taken off more than just my arm.”

“They’re mine,” Jazz snapped and made for the door.

Prime clamped a large hand down on his shoulder-strut and held him back. “You’re not going after them alone.”

“Let go of me, Prime.” Jazz’s voice was low and threatening.

“Stand down, Jazz.”

“I’m taking them out.”

“You have a conflict of interest, you’re staying here. I’ll have a strike-force assembled to bring them to justice.”

Jazz gave a bitter laugh. “Justice?! You’d be lucky to get out of there alive.”

“Precisely why you’re not going in there alone.”

“I know how they work,” Jazz argued. “This is a Special Ops mission, and I’m the head of Special Ops.”

“And I’m the Autobot Commander.” Prime’s voice lowered dangerously. “You’re not going, that’s an order.”

“Try and stop me.”

“Don’t make me lock you in the brig, Jazz.”

“The brig can't hold me.”

“It will if I wrap you in chains first, and I will if you keep pressing the matter.”

The two looked at each other for a good moment, each waiting for the other to give way. During this time, Ratchet had become increasingly confused and annoyed, not helped any by Mirage’s uncomfortable shifting.

“Will someone kindly explain to me just what the frag is going on here?!” he demanded. “Who or what in the Pits is The Circle?!”

“A group of Decepticon mercenaries,” Prime answered, not taking his optics off Jazz.

“They were the ones who killed Jazz’s trainer,” Mirage added, keeping his head down.

“And they would have taken him out as well if back-up hadn’t arrived when it did,” Prime finished. “I’m not sending you out there to get slaughtered, Jazz. You’re too valuable to this faction and to me to throw your life away for a mech who’s already dead.”

Jazz finally looked away. “He may have been a hard-cased mech, but he made me what I am t’day. Wouldn’t be as good as I am if it weren't for his training. I owe it t’him t’get those fraggers.”

“But not by getting yourself killed. Work with me,” Prime said. “Tell me what else you know and we’ll take them down together.”

“Fine.” Jazz pulled his shoulder out of Prime’s grip.

“Report to Ironhide at the end of the orn and help him and Prowl come up with a plan that a strikeforce can follow.” Prime sighed. “We’ll have to risk a little collateral if we’re going to get them, but find a way to keep it to a minimum.”

Jazz gave him another look, then nodded and made for the door…. Stepping outside he stopped to note Bumblebee standing just by the side of the entryway, looking slightly guilty.

“Y’heard all that,” Jazz said. “Don’t matter, an’ I don’t blame ya. I’d be surprised if the whole hall didn’t hear it.”

“I’m sorry, Jazz,” Bumblebee said, meekly.

“S’alright. Nothin’ t’be done for it. Prime’s the boss an’ I still gotta answer t’him. it’s how life is, li’l buddy. Sometimes we don’t always get what we want.” He touched the Minibot’s shoulder gently. “Wait till Prime’s done in there, then ya can go in an’ see Mirage.”

“You could have said a little more, made him see how important this is to you.”

“Ain’t good to talk slag t’your Commander in front of a soldier and another officer. Prime’s a really patient ‘bot, but he don’t take too kindly t’bein questioned in front o’ subordinates.”

Bumblebee didn’t ask if Jazz knew this from personal experience. “But it wasn’t his trainer they killed.”

“No, but still gotta do what he says in the end.”

“What would you have done?”

“Heh, stuck a couple o’ bombs in the place and lit the fuse. Still, maybe his direct approach’ll work, too.”

“You don’t think it will, do you?”

“Y’know what we say in Special Ops: never send ten bots in t’do what one bot can.” Jazz turned to go. “But, since I ain’t allowed to go, I don’t know what’ll happen.”

“Send me then,” Bumblebee offered.

Jazz smiled. “No fraggin’ way, li’l buddy. Not gonna lose you t’them, too. Like ya too much.” He stooped and kissed a cheek. “Take it easy alright, and don’t go out there.” Then he moved off.

Bumblebee watched him go, noting how his shoulders slumped just slightly, and the bounce in his step was gone. It wasn’t fair! Jazz had done so much for the Autobots and all he would get in return was a chance to watch those mechs stand trial and go to lock-up, eventhough they’d killed his own trainer. The Minibot knew that if anyone did that to Jazz, he’d want to rip them limb from limb. Besides, this was a Special Ops agenda wasn’t it? And technically, Jazz hadn’t made it an order…

Peeking into the medbay, Bumblebee saw that Prime was still talking to Ratchet, who was busy feeding some sort of dampener into Mirage’s body to dull his sensors and circuitry before beginning the reconstruction work on his arm. Satisfied that none of them had seen him, he crept away and headed down the hall to Wheeljack’s lab.

“Hey there, Bumblebee,” the engineer greeted as he entered. “How’s everything?”

“Well I’m alright, but Mirage’s hurt, didn’t you know?” Bumblebee replied. “Nearly got his arm blown off on a recon mission.”

“Ouch, that doesn’t sound good, but Ratchet’ll take care of it. He’s a good medic.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it. It’s just that Jazz is really worried, and I am, too. I mean, he’s a part of our team, y’know and that arm looked really bad from what I saw.” Worried concern filled Bumblebee’s bright blue optics as his young face creased into a small frown. “What if he can't use that arm again and has to quit the team? He’s already been through so much, it would devastate him if he had to leave.”

“Aw,” Wheeljack went over and put an arm around the Minibot’s shoulders. “I’m sure it wouldn’t come to that, but tell you what: I’ll pop by the medbay right now and see if I can help ol’ Ratchet fix that arm up good as new.”

Bumblebee smiled hopefully. “That’s really nice of you, Wheeljack. You’d do that?”

“Well sure. Not like I’ve got much to do in here, but are you gonna be okay on your own?”

“I’ll be fine,” Bumblebee assured.

“Okay then.” Wheeljack picked up a few of his tools and hurried out of the lab towards the medbay.

As soon as he was out of sight, Bumblebee went over to one of the shelves where the engineer kept most of his completed explosives ready for the next mission. Part of his training as an Ops agent included learning which type of bomb would produce a certain explosion that would get the desired level of destruction.

Bumblebee chose two that he felt would be best in bringing down a building and subspaced them, then quickly and quietly made his way out of the lab.

He could do this, he told himself. Besides, it had to be easier than sneaking into a Decepticon power-plant through a small tunnel, and then trying to escape with Ravage on your trail. Furthermore, this wasn’t even in Decepticon territory, but just outside Iacon. All he had to do was get into the building, plant the bombs and get out again before they blew.

Couldn’t be that hard.

=====

Jazz paced in his quarters, more than a little frustrated about the whole thing. His selfish side still insisted that Prime had no right to take that mission from him, though his more sensible side bade him see the lack of logic in running out there alone and getting himself slagged. Maybe if he’d been a lone agent, he would have told Prime to shove his order and gone charging out, but the reality was that he did have a team and he was their captain, and he owed it to them to stay alive.

A knock on his door snapped him out of his musings and he crossed the room to answer it, hoping it was Bumblebee with some news about Mirage’s condition. He would have gone back himself, but was in no mood to be questioned by Ratchet. To his surprise however, he found Beachcomber outside.

“Oh, hey Jazz. You seen Bumblebee around?” the Minibot asked. “We were supposed t’get together at the end of the orn, but I haven't seen him. Thought he might be here with you after what happened to Mirage.”

“Sorry, ‘Comber, but I ain’t seen him since I talked t’him outside the medbay. Maybe he’s still in there,” Jazz replied. “Guess I’m headed there now, so I’ll let him know you were lookin’ for him.”

“Alright, sounds good. Thanks Jazz.”

The Minibot left and Jazz made for the medbay, a worrying thought starting to build in his processor. When he reached Ratchet’s domain however, the only ones inside were a semi-sedated Mirage, and Ratchet and Wheeljack, who were bent over the spy’s arm.

“How’s he doin’ Ratch?” he asked, going in.

“He’ll be fine,” the medic replied. “But he’ll need a few orns to rest and let that arm heal before he goes back to creeping into places he’s not supposed to be.”

“No worries. He can take a break after this. There’s still me an’ Bee t’handle the Ops work. Speakin’ of, has our li’l yellow been in?”

“Haven't seen him all orn,” Ratchet said.

“He was outside when I left earlier. Told him to go in after Optimus had gone.”

“Well, he wasn’t around when Prime left.”

Jazz scowled, the thought starting to shape itself into reality. “If the little slagger has done what I think he’s done, I’ll have his horns.”

“Come to think of it, he did stop by my lab earlier. Convinced me to help Ratchet with Raj’s arm. I agreed ‘cause he looked so worried.”

“Why that sneaky li’l…” Jazz snarled and dashed off towards the lab.

Wheeljack ran after him. “Well, you did teach him, and you can hardly fault him for putting your lessons into practice.”

“Not helpin’, ‘Jack,” Jazz replied.

He skidded to a stop and went into the lab – carefully, so as not to knock anything over – and made his way to the explosives shelf. Wheeljack joined him.

“Ah, yup. Two bombs are gone.”

Reality made itself quite clear.

“I’ll kill him!” Jazz yelled. “I’m going to rip out those horns of his and shove them up his fraggin’ tailpipe! What was he thinkin’?!”

“Y’gotta get to him first,” Wheeljack reminded him.

“I know that! And if he’s gotten himself slagged, I’m gonna kick his aft in! Fraggin’ little… I was stupid! I should have made it an order!”

“And you’re very good at following orders.”

Jazz shot him a look, then still ranting at the fool-headed little bot, Jazz transformed to his hover-cruiser mode and shot off, heedless of whoever was in his path. He had to get to the idiotic Minibot before he got himself completely over his head. Jazz swore he would never forgive himself if he let something happen to that cheerful little mech. He only hoped to Primus that he wouldn’t arrive there in time to haul out his deactivated shell.

=====

Okay, so maybe it was going to be a little hard, Bumblebee thought as he surveyed the building from across the street. For one thing, he hadn’t counted on the mechs being so big, even for Decepticons. There were only three of them, but they stood bulky and imposing, and just happened to have an impressive arsenal of weapons.

On the bright side, Mirage HAD been able to sneak up on them earlier, and all those weapons would make a pretty nice explosion of their own. All he needed to do was get in there and plant the bombs, and get out again without being noticed.

He scanned the building again, this time searching for any holes or gaps that he could crawl through. There didn’t seem to be any, but there was a small trapdoor-like opening at the back of the building that he hoped he could fit through. Dashing across the street, he crept around to the back and found the opening. It’d be a bit of a squeeze, but he could just about manage it.

Wriggling and trying not too make too much noise he finally got in, then stood and looked for the Decepticons. The three were in the ante-room busy cleaning some of their cache of weapons and didn’t seem to have heard him, so he quickly got to work.

The first bomb immediately went on the power generator, but he took some time trying to decide where to place the second, before finally settling on a boiler-like device in a corner. He hoped that would give it some added punch to take out the building’s support structure and bring it down.

Satisfied with his work, he stepped back and was about to make for the trapdoor again when something – a hand, he realized later – closed around the back of his neck in a crushing grip and lifted him off his feet.

“Well, well. Looks like we have a little retro-rat getting in where he shouldn’t,” a voice sneered.

Bumblebee immediately went limp as the hand shook him roughly, quickly and subtly rubbing a dirt-smeared hand over his Autobot symbol to mask it.

“Please, don’t ‘urt me.” Letting a tremble creep into his voice, he glanced back at his captor with wide, terrified blue optics. Not a hard thing to do considering he really WAS terrified. “I’s just lookin’ for any leftover energon y’all might ‘ave lyin’ round f’a poor starvin’ mech.”

He threw in a bit of a rustic accent as well, so the mech wouldn’t suspect him as being a proper-bred Iaconian bot. If he could make the Decepticon think that he was nothing more than a useless, under-energized little beggar, there was a chance he’d loosen his grip and give Bumblebee an opening to escape.

There! The fingers around his neck relaxed just that little bit. He kicked out hard and fast at his captor’s knee-joints, striking with all his strength. The Decepticon dropped him with a curse on reflex, and Bumblebee dashed towards the only source of escape he could see – a staircase that most-likely led to the upper floors of the building.

He’d cleared the third landing – arming the bombs as he did so – when he heard the sound of pursuit behind him.

“Autobot runt!” the Decepticon roared. “When I catch you, I’m going to rip you apart piece by piece.”

Bumblebee didn’t stop to listen, he just kept running up and up the stairs. At one point he heard a dull explosion and figured one of the bombs had gone off. The building swayed and he heard a crash follow. Still he didn’t stop.

The final landing stretched into a long hallway at the end of which stood a closed iron door. Bumblebee summoned his rifle and took aim even as he ran, firing two quick shots that blew the lock and hinges off. He burst through and ran out on to the roof, stopping at the edge to find himself a good way above ground.

A blast behind him sent a shower of metal and rubble into the air, and as Bumblebee shielded himself from falling debris, he saw the large Decepticon step onto the roof, slightly singed and dented.

“I’ll give it to you,” the mech growled. “You caught us all off-guard with that little stunt. Special Ops aren't ya?”

Bumblebee didn’t answer. He was too busy looking for a way to escape.

“Oh well, doesn’t matter. Time for you to die now.”

“Gotta catch me first!”

Bumblebee darted away as the mech lunged at him, knowing that there was no way he could win in a fight, and thus relying on his speed and small size to avoid coming into contact. He fired his rifle as he ran, but the shots did nothing more than infuriate the Decepticon. Oh well, it could have been worse, Bumblebee thought as he picked himself up and resumed running after stumbling and falling over an uneven bit of ground. He could have been a Seeker.

Two louder, stronger explosions rippled through the building and punched through the roof in fiery clouds, one of them barely missing the Minibot. The building swayed dangerously and Bumblebee slowed to keep his balance, even as the structure began to tilt to one side as the lower levels began to crumble.

The Decepticon fell over with an angry shout, but Bumblebee somehow managed to run over to the up-raised corner and hopped onto the ledge. He would have to jump off or go down with the building – either way, the outcome wouldn’t be good. Things had just gotten worse.

=====

Jazz reached the vicinity of the suspected hideout and stopped with a jerk. Flames and smoke poured from the lower levels, and a quick scan told him it was in danger of collapsing at any moment. Little fragger pulled it off, he thought, but where was he? Swiftly he transformed and surveyed the situation.

If Bumblebee was trapped inside and had somehow managed to avoid both the Decepticons and the explosions – he refused to believe otherwise – where would he head? Obviously not outside because those exits would be impassable right now. Which only left the roof.

Jazz looked up, and with the help of his visor sharpened his vision to its maximum, and sure enough caught sight of a flash of yellow. From there it only took him a few kliks to come up with a plan of action, even as he saw the building start to list to one side.

He darted inside a building diagonally opposite the raised side of the collapsing building and sprinted for the roof, ignoring the startled cries of the bots within who were wondering just what in Primus’ name was going on outside.

“Autobot Special Operations Officer, coming through!” he yelled at anyone who looked like they might get in his way.

He dashed out onto the roof and ran to the edge in time to see Bumblebee balancing precariously on the parapet as the building continued to collapse and a Decepticon stalked towards him from a side. 

Retracting his left hand, he replaced it with his grappling hook and line, drew his arm back, then swung. The hook wrapped and lodged around a protruding signboard hanging from a building directly opposite to the one he was standing on.

Jazz ran, then dived off the edge of the ledge, letting his momentum swing him in an arc towards Bumblebee. He only had one chance at this, so he had to make it count. He snapped his right arm out and as he was carried past the falling building, grabbed Bumblebee around the waist and pulled him off the edge. The Minibot clung to him, partly in disbelief, and Jazz could feel him trembling as he swung them to safety.

A streak of purple light sailed over their heads and struck the sign, dislodging Jazz’s grappling hook and dropping the two of them like lead blocks – a parting shot from the Decepticon as the building crumbled into the smoke and flames.

“Hold tight to me!” Jazz ordered, replacing the hook with his hand again.

Bumblebee did so even as he felt their downward plummet start to slow. At the same time he heard Jazz give a strained grunt. Chancing a look back and down over his shoulder, he saw a small jet of blue flame spouting from under each of Jazz’s ankles. The flames flickered more the further they fell, and Bumblebee somehow knew that their eventual impact with the ground was only lessened not eliminated.

His grip around Jazz tightened just that little bit and he pressed his face against his Captain’s shoulder. He didn’t care if his fear showed. There was no one around to see it save for Jazz, and if he wanted to kick him off the team for it later, then he was justified to do so.

All Jazz did in response however was to curl protectively around the Minibot – a move that almost surprised Bumblebee.

The saboteur’s aeilerons – only designed to give him elevation off the ground in quick short bursts – finally gave out, unable to take the strain of holding up not one, but two mechs in mid-air at a long stretch; and the two of them dropped the rest of the way.

The impact knocked Bumblebee from Jazz’s arms and the Minibot rolled with the momentum as he’d been taught, to lessen the overall damage to his structure. Coming to a stop, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked around for Jazz.

The saboteur was picking himself up a few paces away, still relatively whole as far as Bumblebee could see. Then he noticed shape approaching the black-and-white mech from behind. At first the Minibot thought it was someone coming to help, until he noticed the glowing red optics.

“Jazz! Look out!” Bumblebee yelled as he hurried to scramble to his feet.

Jazz, who had managed to stand, turned right into a blow from the Decepticon that sent him flying back a couple more paces. The larger mech advanced on him, rifle in hand trained on the stunned saboteur who was struggling to recover from the blow.

“You killed my brothers, Autobot,” the mech growled. Then he stared at Jazz. “I remember you. You were the runt we made watch while we ripped that older Autobot apart, the one who couldn’t keep his nose out of our business. Well, you wont be so lucky this time. There’s no one around to save you now.”

He fired his rifle, but as he did so, a small force of yellow slammed into his arm, causing the shot to go wide. Bumblebee clung to the arm and tried to pry the rifle out of his hand.

“You’re wrong, he has me!” he shouted.

The Decepticon was not amused, and for the second time that orn, Bumblebee found his neck in a crushing grip. He flailed wildly with his legs while trying to pry the hand off, but his strikes lacked the strength they did before.

“You Autobots are about as annoying as turbo-flies,” the Decepticon said, squeezing harder.

Bumblebee felt a few cables in his neck threaten to snap under the strain, but just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, the fingers suddenly went limp and dropped him on his aft. He looked up to see the Decepticon fall back, coolant and energon pooling under his body from a single deadly wound.

Jazz stood beside the Minibot, a small energy dagger in his hand. With his other hand he reached down and hauled Bumblebee to his feet. They stood for a moment looking at the greying body of the Decepticon, before Jazz turned on his heel and started to walk away.

Bumblebee ran after him. “Jazz wait!” he called. “Let me explain!”

The saboteur stopped, rounded on him, grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him firmly, visor blazing in anger.

“You fraggin’ little idiot!” Jazz yelled at him, and Bumblebee winced. “You could’ve been killed! Or worse! Do you even understand the danger you put us all in?!”

“I… I’m sorry,” Bumblebee replied, blue optics wide and trying to keep his voice steady. “I only wanted to help you, because of what they did to you.”

“This wasn’t your battle t’fight.” Jazz had stopped shaking him and was looking directly into his optics. “If they’d caught you, can you imagine the amount of information they could’ve gotten outta you? What they would’ve done t’you t’get that information?!”

“You were perfectly willing to charge out here all alone, and you would have, too, if Prime hadn’t ordered you not to,” the Minibot argued.

“No offense, Bumblebee, but I’ve been doin’ this job a lot longer than you have,” the saboteur replied. “You and Mirage still have a ways to go before you learn how to resist torture; and no, I wouldn’t have run off without at least tellin’ the two o’ you. You didn’t tell anyone! How can I trust you?! How can I trust you wont go and do somethin’ like this again?!”

Bumblebee looked at his feet, thoroughly chastized and ashamed. “I wont, I promise.”

“Slaggin’ right y’wont,” Jazz growled. “Why’d ya do it? What were y’tryin’ t’prove, Bee?”

“Nothing! Honest. I just wanted to get revenge for you, because Prime wouldn’t let you go.” He could feel Jazz’s hands shaking.

“You could’ve… I could’ve lost you!” Jazz released him and went and sat on a ledge. “If you’d been killed just now, I’d’ve never forgiven myself.”

“I’m sorry,” Bumblebee said again in a small voice. 

Jazz sighed, expression softening as the anger started to drain out of him. “Y’scared me, Bee. I was terrified I wouldn’t reach ya in time, and that they might’ve done somethin’ horrible t’ya.” He stood, and this time placed a gentle hand on the Minibot’s shoulder. “Don’t’ ever do somethin’ like that again, please.”

“I wont, I swear! Just, please don’t kick me off the team.”

Jazz looked at him. “I was never gonna kick ya out, Bee.” His visor glinted. “Do you know how slaggin’ annoyin’ it’s gonna be t’find and train someone new? I’ll be lucky if I get someone with half the bearin’s and talent that you have.”

Bumblebee looked at him, daring to smile a little. “R… Really?” Jazz nodded, and before he realized what he was doing, he hugged the black-and-white tightly around the waist. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome; and thank you, for takin’ the risk. Oh, but don’t think you’re getting’ off lightly,” Jazz said when he was released. “You’re suspended from the next three missions.”

Bumblebee sighed. “Guess I deserve that.”

“Y’bet your little yellow aft ya do. Now c’mon, if you’re not too hurt t’drive, we’d best be gettin’ back t’the Decagon. The others’ll be gettin’ worried.”

Bumblebee nodded, transformed and followed Jazz back home.

=====

The lights of the Decagon glowed warm and welcoming as the two pulled to a stop at the entrance, but even more welcoming was the sight of the mech who stood there waiting for them. Mirage, his injured arm resting in a metal brace that was magnetized to his chest, stepped forward as they transformed.

“Well, you two certainly look lovely,” the spy said. “Nice and roughed up, so I assume everything went according to plan?”

“In a sense,” Jazz replied. “I don’t think we’ll be hearing from The Circle again.”

“I’m guessing this is a story I’ll want to hear?”

“Oh yeah, and Bee’s gonna have plenty of time to tell ya ‘bout it while he completes his suspension.”

Mirage raised an optic ridge. “Crossed the Boss, eh?”

Jazz glanced behind the blue-and-white, into the Decagon itself. “He’s not the only one…. Mirage, take Bee t’the medbay and have Ratchet check him out.”

The spy looked back and saw why. “Oh… good luck, Jazz… C’mon Bumblebee.” He ushered the Minibot inside. “Let’s pay Ratchet a visit, and you can apologize to Wheeljack at the same time.”

Bumblebee reluctantly allowed Mirage to lead him inside, even as Optimus Prime strode past them towards Jazz.

“Hope I didn’t get Jazz in too much trouble,” Bumblebee murmured.

“Don’t worry, he knows how to handle Prime. He’ll be alright,” Mirage assured him.

Prime meanwhile reached the exit and crossed his arms, looking squarely at the saboteur. “I want an explanation, Jazz.”

Jazz shrugged. “Ain’t got one.”

“You disobeyed a direct order for no reason at all?” Prime raised an optic ridge.

“What can I say, I was feelin’ restless.”

“And Bumblebee had nothing at all to do with this? Wheeljack mentioned he ran off with two bombs.”

“Under my orders, Prime. I told him to take ‘em and meet me at the hideout. He ain’t got nothin’ t’do with this, he was just followin’ my orders.” Jazz met his Commander’s gaze. “The Circle’s gone, by the way. Mission accomplished.”

“I still ought to throw you in the brig for insubordination, and disobeying a direct order,” Prime said.

“Told ya before, brig can't hold me.”

“Unless you want to be stripped of both your ranks, it WILL hold you if I say it will.”

Jazz said nothing to that, but held Prime’s optics with his own.

“One orn in the brig,” the Commander said. “But I’ll suspend it if you tell me what really happened.”

“I just did, Optimus. It’s up to you if ya wanna trust me.”

Prime sighed and shook his head. “Report to Prowl after you’ve had Ratchet check you out.” He turned to go back in, then stopped. “Oh and Jazz, good work.”

Jazz tossed off a salute. “As you command, Prime… and thanks.”

… So it was that Mirage and Bumblebee found Jazz in the brig at the start of the next orn, sitting on a bench in a somewhat spacious cell. The saboteur looked at them and knew they’d spent their recharge time in each other’s company. Mirage went over to a panel and deactivated the energy bars. Jazz looked at him curiously.

“You can't come out yet, but Prowl said we could come in here and keep you company for a while,” the spy said.

Bumblebee went in first, and sitting down beside him snuggled up to Jazz’s side, wrapping his arms around the saboteur’s waist. Jazz in turn put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a gentle squeeze, mindful of the fresh weld-marks on the Minibot’s plating.

“You’re a good mech, Bee,” he said, kissing the yellow helm. “Glad I got ya.”

Bumblebee smiled. “You make us good.”

“Makin’ the most of the time, eh?”

“But of course,” Mirage replied. He sat on Jazz’s other side and leaned closer, mindful of his own wounded arm, and nuzzled against the black-and-white’s neck.

“I don’t think this was the kind of company Prowl had in mind though,” Jazz murmured.

“Well, he didn’t specify what we could or couldn’t do in here, so it’s open to creative interpretation,” Bumblebee said.

Jazz chuckled. “Think I taught you too well, Bee.”

“Indeed. Now are you going to keep resisting, or let me and Bumblebee keep you company?” Mirage’s fingers on his good arm found and stroked a slightly sensitive area under his front bumper.

Jazz gave a soft sound of contentment and leaned into the touch, holding Bumblebee closer as he did so.

“I’m all yours.”

 

~END.


End file.
